Shifting the House
He lived in my heart for a long time
When life was in its metre and rhyme.
When the house became shabby
He was reminded of his old hobby.
He searched out a house newly raised
Day and night its beauty he praised.
Then one day he took all his luggage
And left the house bag and baggage.
He was welcomed with open arms
He got lost in its fascinating charms.
He enjoyed a long passage of time
As long as life was in its rhyme.
Insted of house now he became old
Over the change he had no hold.
Now the house wanted to shift him
Because the light of his eyes was dim.
Wrinkles are not to be cherished
Now he was only to perish.
According to the misery's demand
He was proper for dust or sand.
He wa kinly sent to a house of clay
It was the dropp scene of life's play.
As it was a house most shabby
To change house was his hobby.
He was waiting for a good shift
That may prove a good gift.
Comments about this poem (Shifting the House by Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai )
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